As you already know, I have five dogs.  My broken pelvis has had an interesting effect on each of them.

First, Buddy, the tiny little mini-weiner with  the great big attitude, has decided that his full-time job is to protect me from all threats, foreign or domestic, real or imagined.  He is so funny.  You can almost smell the smoke from the gears grinding in his little dog brain as he gets down, scouts the perimeter, and returns to the chair so he can gently climb onto the couch and his perch next to my left (uninjured) hip.

Jolson watches from afar.  She just can’t seem to understand why playing keep-away with Spiderman isn’t as much fun as it used to be.  She takes advantage of Buddy’s re-con trips to come see me, though.

The two pomeranians are wondering what the big old pad is doing on the sofa.  They’re a little afraid of it.  Bandit still scampers up to the back of the couch, though, and Ginger curls up on the pad while I’m sitting in the lift chair.

As for Heidi, she just goes with the flow.  She’s 16 years old now, so not too much ruffles her feathers anymore.  But her doggie bed keeps moving, so she wanders around looking for it.  When she finds it, she curls up in it and goes to sleep.  When she doesn’t, she stands and barks.  Poor baby!

Well, Buddy is defending me from the laptop now, so I’ll lay it aside for awhile and let him think he’s slain another dragon.